


throw me in the deep end

by decadent



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Dirty Talk, M/M, Pirates, Rough Sex, a good bit of thirst between them two, a tiny slap on a lovely bum, and now it's just porn, at some point this had a plot, there's a bit of manhandling and some size kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4779134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decadent/pseuds/decadent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s a respectable captain who doesn’t go around bedding his crew, although when certain members of his crew decide to land on his bed themselves, it’s a bit of a tough  choice. So it’s a struggle, really.</p><p>Or, the one where Harry is a very ferocious pirate captain and Louis is a mighty scoundrel in need of some good dicking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	throw me in the deep end

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whoknows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknows/gifts).



> how to write a fic for the bloody queen of this fandom is still something i've probably yet to master, but this did have quite the effort put in it as...... i decided to write a new story on the very last minute. as you do. thank you so much for the lovely fics you've written for this exchange (or you know, ever), miss whoknows, and i hope you find this at least a decent read.
> 
> shoutout to juliusschmidt for writing the brilliant "gentle rogue," which may or may not have been a good source of inspiration regarding a pirate au. this story might be a mess of incorrect nautical facts and as i've personally never been a pirate, i have about zero confirmation as to whether what i've googled is a Real Pirate Thing.
> 
> ps. no one gets thrown in anywhere. credit for story title goes to halsey. this story is just my imagination, even though it's not a right hobby for me to be enjoying~~~~~~~

With everything taken into consideration, Harry considers himself a fairly just captain.

He very rarely raises his voice at his crew, he’s made it one of his biggest concerns that his men are well-fed and that there is always something available for snacking in the gallery on every single hour of the day. He never puts anyone on his ship in any sort of endangerment unless it’s  _absolutely_  necessary and unavoidable, and if someone faces any sort of need for retribution, he gives them a fair opportunity to justify themselves and never makes any decisions based on his current emotions.

So, regarding all of that, and the fact that Harry really does give his best not to be your average pirate captain who only uses angry and angrier as their main emotions and implements their power over their crew through fear and horror, he thinks he does have all of the right to be relatively upset when someone breaks pretty much the only real rule he has on the ship regarding his own personal preferences.

It’s very simple, really. And it applies to every single member of the crew, even the most attractive ones. Do not enter his cabin without permission. That’s it, that’s all. Don’t enter the bloody cabin without an (official) invitation from Harry himself, don’t enter without knocking, just don’t. Ever. Unless there’s a fire on deck – in which case, it’s self-explanatory that the captain should probably be noted.

However, because it’s so simple and mostly everyone on board, the whole motley crew of ten scoundrels who look as menacing as Harry himself (which is to say, they don’t really, it’s a puppy litter dressed in rags on a boat), has the decency to respect the captain’s wish and privacy, they keep their inquisitive little noses out of Harry’s cabin.

It’s a no-brainer, really.

Which brings Harry to question why there is a Louis Tomlinson in his cabin next to his bed while the bright morning sun is slipping its first rays into the room through the murky window, and he’s just standing there with a bored expression while Harry is still emerging from sleep with bleary eyes and curls far too wild to be acceptable. Despite everything, he’s still a respectable pirate captain who does not want his crew seeing him as a rucked-up kitten.

Also, his sleep shirt is falling off his shoulder, exposing a large expanse of sunkissed skin stretching over his collarbone, and he’s kicked off his blanket in the sleep, so Louis has a perfect view of Harry’s long, deliciously tanned legs, and he definitely does  _not_  stare _at all_.

“Um,” Harry says, “what the bloody hell are you doing here, Tommo?” He quickly snaps the quilt back over himself, trying to hold onto at least some of the dignity underneath Louis’ ogling eyes, and tries not to get too frustrated with him just bloody  _standing_  there.

It’s early and just like everyone, Harry is not a massive admirer of mornings. He likes his bed, even though it’s not the most comfortable thing he’s ever lain in, but it’s the softest surface in the ship, equipped with a mattress, two down pillows and a ratty blanket that Harry still considers as his most valuable possessions, and menacing pirate captains like Harry deserve their sleep.

“Deck is cleaned. Horan’s just prepared brekkie. Payne has rigged the ship and they’re setting the course with Alberto for Shetland Islands, although he did grumble something about how Spain is nicer this time of the year. Sadie is missing. Alberto said he might have spotted the Royal Navy fleet during his morning watch, but he can’t be too sure, so you ought to come and take a look.”

It’s much too early to be dealing with this.

“First of all, if my parrot’s gone, you’ll be the one taking over her spot on the perch, seeing as she’s your responsibility when I’m not on the deck. Secondly, have you got any good news or did you just take a proper dump on my day before I’ve even got me foot out of the bed? And still, why are you in my cabin?”

Louis’ face contorts into something that looks like he’s been sucking on lemons the entire morning. It’s rarely his default expression, because half of the time he is prancing around and causing friendly mayhem on board, which is something Harry is yet to decide whether he likes or not. “D’no where your birdie went, last she was croaking about on the mast. As for what I’m doing here… couldn’t resist taking a peek at them gazelle limbs, I suppose.” He gives Harry a sly wink that Harry definitely didn't assume coming.

With that, he leaves the room and leaves a flustered Harry to himself. Harry’s hardly any immune to flattery, much like any other man in his position, and he’s quite aware of his good physique and attractive looks, because it’s much more fun being an attractive pirate captain rather than a troll one.

He gets dressed quickly, slips on a pair of breeches and changes his sleep shirt for another loose, linen one which barely leaves anything to one’s imagination, tugs his curls back with a ratty scarf stolen from somewhere in Ireland, and desperately forces down the blush that’s dusted lightly over his cheekbones, because Louis doesn’t have to know he got Harry flustered with a single comment about his legs.

Louis doesn’t have to know about the times he gets Harry a bit anxious in general, even though he quite often does.

“Impressively swabbed, Louis,” Harry comments as he steps out onto the deck. The day is bright and beautiful, the sun high up in the azure sky and the sea is glistening turquoise as far as the eye can see. “Alberto, Louis said something about Royal Navy?”

“Aye,” Alberto replies. He’s gruff, bearded, extremely skilled with the rig and navigation devices, and generally, the true epitome of a proper sea bear. He landed on HMS Wellington with Louis in tow and proved himself to be much of much more use than Louis, who to this day can be arsed only to clean the deck, cause ruckus and drink more rum than a little gentleman of his descent should.

“Near the shore, a tad up from Newcastle upon Tyne. If we took a longer course to Shetland, we’ll be able to pass them completely.”

“Set the sail to Orkney Islands, then. We’ll need a brief docking in Kirkwall to stock up on food and supplies, then straight to Shetland. Once we’ve cleaned Lerwick, we’ll take a longer way through the North Channel to Liverpool. Shouldn't take more than a month, if we’re swift enough.”

“Shiver me timbers,” a small voice speaks up from behind the crew gathered before Harry. Of course Louis has a say about something. When does he ever not. “Let me guess, you want to rob Lerwick of all they have, split the booty into two, and give half of it to the fishers in Liverpool? Because you’re a good person?”

Harry smiles brightly. It’s good when his crew understands his plans, it’s even better when they’re able to guess them pretty much one hundred per cent, because that shows Harry’s leadership skills and the understanding between him and his crew. Or, that’s what he likes to believe, most of the days.

“You do realize you’re a pirate, right? Not Robin Hood? No normal pirate goes around stealing cities empty just to sail away and apportion it around to people who haven’t set a single sail to earn it.”

Louis looks tiny and a bit angry, like one of those little spiky animals Harry has sometimes seen in the few forests he’s been to in his life, considering he’s strictly a son of the sea. Louis’ brows are furrowed, eyes sharp and glistening, and his hands are crossed tight over his chest. Harry’s beloved macaw is sitting on Louis’ shoulder and– even though she's back,  _damn_ , that traitor of a bird.

“Everyone here knows you want to get your paws on Lerwick just because of your beef or summat with Winston and everyone and their mum is aware that he’s from Lerwick. So it’s payback, isn’t it? No one in their bloody mind goes to rob Shetland Islands, might as well end up on the North Pole.”

Why the Heavens made such an attractive person like Louis Tomlinson so obnoxious, Harry will never understand. Why the Heavens he ended up on Harry's ship out of all the places, he also asks himself every day.

Harry tries his hardest not to grit his teeth and not to give Louis a little lesson by dangling him over the ledge of the ship, just the teeniest bit. Just to get his tiny pants in a twist a bit. “As it just so happens, I’m the captain of this ship, and so far none of my crew has had a problem with our destinations other than you. Should you require so, I will personally find you a row boat in which you are more than welcome to embark on your own adventures to your own liking. Savvy?”

That’s a blatant lie, considering Harry would never risk Louis’ life with putting him out on the sea himself. First of all, years ago, he made a promise, and secondly, his bum is far too precious to be thrown overboard like that. Even the dumbest fish would find it unfairly delectable.

Louis huffs. Harry huffs back. To any innocent bystander, it looks like the huffing match of two little cats, not the standoff of two rugged buccaneers, which Harry and Louis both definitely are.

“Anyone else have anything else to say?”

The silence is deafening. Everyone knows Harry, their beloved and trusted scallywag of a captain is made of sunshine and happiness and rarely ever lashes out on anyone in their crew, or their crew never really has anything to complain about, but from God knows where, Harry got the idea that a person should lead with  _kindness_ , not fright, and even though no one has even the smallest objection to Harry’s leadership skills, it still sets him apart from just about any other pirate captain sailing whichever sea.

“Get to work, you sea dogs,” Harry finally exclaims happily and takes his place behind the steering wheel.

Just another day on Wellington, really.

 

 

“I think I told you the last time that if I ever find you in my cabin again, you’re walking the plank and I won’t really be bothered with what you have to say for yourself.”

Louis is in his cabin, again. He’s in Harry’s cabin, on Harry’s  _bed,_ lounging about in his tight little breeches and no shirt. The cold air in his room has tightened Louis’ nipples into hard little nubs and there’s a thin layer of goosebumps all over his tan, delicious skin. Everything about this situation is highly unacceptable and extremely violating for all of Harry's senses. Also, Sadie is standing on Louis’ tummy, feet digging into the soft skin, and fluttering her wings for Louis to pet them. Which, he is.

“I was bored and we’re running out of rum, soon. You better hope there’s rum in Kirkwall, or else you’ll have a relatively infuriated crew on hands.”

“You will soon have a relatively infuriated captain to deal with, Tommo,” Harry goes to stand by the side of his bed. “Give me my bird back and get out of my bed.”

“Much comfier than mine, innit. Should strive for captain myself one day if it means such luxury,” Louis sneers, although his eyes have a friendly, mischievous glint to them, and he’s unfairly attractive even in his spitefulness. He looks good without a shirt, although Harry would love to see him without trousers even more.

Thing is, between Harry and Louis, there’s been some flirting and banter and mutual teasing and gentle bullying from the very first moment Louis stepped his foot on Harry’s ship. It almost seems as if Louis doesn’t really have a problem with Harry’s authority, but the whole general idea of authority itself and how much fun it is to rebel against it - and the embodiment of authority on Wellington is no other than Captain Harry Styles, of course. The whole flirting, though, has never gone any further, and for the sake of professional piracy, Harry’s brain would like to keep it that way, but at the same time Harry’s heart would like nothing more than to bury his face in the mound of Louis’ arse and go to town with it.

He’s a respectable captain who doesn’t go around bedding his crew, although when certain members of his crew decide to land on his bed themselves, it’s a bit of a tough choice. So it’s a struggle, really.

Harry’s advantage, though, at all times, is his height and strength over Louis, which means he can physically do whatever he wants to Louis, or at least tower over him grumpily. Louis is tiny and compact, curvaceous with his plump arse and lovely hips, thick thighs and defined arms, and Harry would be the filthiest liar in all the Seven Seas if he said he didn’t find that, ahem,  _inspiring_  at all. Inspiring late at night before bed, for example, or inspiring early in the morning while his dreams were inspiring his cock.

Using that advantage to his fullest, Harry lunges forward and flips Louis over his shoulder upside down, his feet up high and his face dangling somewhere near Harry’s bum. Harry’s not even going to pretend it’s not where he’d like Louis, because he does think it’s a mighty fine combination. Louis’ face, Harry’s bum.

“Put me down you bloody bilge-sucking bucko,” Louis pounds his tiny fists against Harry’s backside and wiggles around to have Harry loosen his grasp, but Harry’s having none of it. He quite likes Louis squirming in his hold, gives him a few good ideas as to what else he might do with the knowledge of how Louis reacts to being pinned down. Maybe use a little rope or one of his headscarves to pin him to his creaky bed.

“I dare you to insult me again, Tommo,” Harry smirks and it’s incredibly hard to keep the amusement and satisfaction out of his own voice. Louis is such a squirming little delight and Harry actually feels bad for not having thought of this before. Of course he’s always known that disobedient little rascals like Louis need to be put in their place once in a while, but he never really thought of what would happen if he actually took Louis and held him down for some time. It’s a good theory to inspect further and try out as soon as possible.

“You’re an awful captain, Styles. Awful. Me grandmum would make a better pirate than you, with your bloody stupid headscarves and saviour complex.”

The agitation doesn’t work, though. Harry just grows fonder with each passing second. “You’re such a delightful tiny flower, Louis, and you’re sleeping on the deck tonight.”

In final retaliation, Louis pinches Harry’s arse. It emits nothing more than a loud, semi-howling bark of laughter out of Harry.

 

 

Harry catches Louis when he’s prying open all of the ropes in the hallway of the berthing. The ones which have all of Harry’s clothes drying on them, including a few of the expensive silk shirts he’s managed to nick from some of the bigger, much fancier ports they’ve been to over the past few years.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Louis turns around, eyes wide as saucers and more frightened than a deer caught in the headlights. “Um,” he says uselessly, “sabotaging you. And your clothes. And your favourite shirts.”

“Uh, huh,” Harry says and wrenches Louis’ hands away from the ropes, which are sufficiently loose, but not on the ground, thank Lord. Poor silk doesn’t deserve to be on the dirty, crooked floorboards of the cabin. It deserves only the best, like Harry’s smooth skin, or Louis' skin, one day. Harry keeps Louis’ wrists pinned tight between his hands and presses him into the wall – they’re so close that Louis is fighting the distance and tries not to go cross-eyed as he’s staring back at Harry  _very_  fiercely. Their bodies are pressed together, skin on skin, Harry’s lips so close to Louis’ and he really can’t help but notice the way Louis’ eyes keep darting from Harry’s eyes to his lips and then back again.

How easy it would be to kiss him right now. Press close even further, have Louis go limp against his body and press his lips to his. Slip him some tongue and make him moan the way men who look and _act_ like Louis deserve to. Maybe slide his thigh right between Louis’ legs and press against his cock, the very same one which has already went from zero to rock hard with just the briefest brush, the tiniest hint of Harry’s lips against Louis. Have him rut against Harry’s leg until he’s desperate and aching to come.

Thing is, that would be giving in, surrendering too easy. Letting Louis win, maybe, because that's obviously what he's after. Harry's immaculate charm and massive cock, good kissing skills.

And two can play this game, Harry thinks, so with a tiny bite and an even tinier lick to Louis’ earlobe, he flings himself away and gives Louis a dazzling smile. If no one sees Louis panting in the hallway like he’s just run a marathon and the massive hard-on tenting in his trousers, remarkably similar to bloody Loch Ness from how it’s straining against his breeches, then it’s just pure luck.

 

 

One night, Harry catches Louis screwing off the corks on each of the wine barrels in the cargo hold. Everyone and their mum knows that once a barrel is opened, the wine needs to be consumed rather quickly to keep it from going off, and a good pirate knows not to waste any alcohol, ever. It’s like, the rules of piracy. So when Harry realizes that Louis is tricking the whole ship into drinking more wine, he can’t help but ponder if it’s to get them drunk and less attentive, or if it’s to get Harry drunk and more willing.

“Wily trickster,” Harry whispers to himself when Louis carries a whole pail full of red wine to the dinner table with that pleased little smirk on his face whenever he manages some mischief.

 

 

Neither of them actually can pinpoint when exactly they started to play each other back and when their whole light-hearted banter slash flirting slash  _thing_  was turned into proper public foreplay. The crew, especially Alberto and Niall, are already giving them peculiar looks at all times, and it’s getting considerably harder to hide their boners from people who shouldn’t really be witnessing them.

Which mostly means the nine other people on the ship, plus a sneaky macaw.

So just because Louis is incredibly good at pranking and doing tiny little things that make Harry want to pull his own hair out, strand by strand, it doesn’t particularly mean that Harry is any lesser than Louis and he's going to owe Louis any of the pranks he gets pulled on himself daily.

Whenever Louis ties together the calves of all of Harry’s breeches so that Harry faceplants onto the floor of his cabin when he tries to pull on a random pair of pants, Harry just so happens cut the bottom off of Louis’ cup, but place them still on top of each other on the dinner table, so whenever Louis decides to raise his mug for a drink, he ends up with half of a mug and too much rum on his lap.

It’s a double joke on him, because for Teasing Purposes, Louis has foregone all sorts of underwear for weeks now, and the whole crew behind the dinner table gets a good look at his wet dick.

It gets worse day by day. And frankly, it’s hilarious.

 

Everything culminates on a dreary night with the wind howling and the thunder roaring wild in the sky. The waves are beating against the hull, hard and relentless, the ship swaying back and forth in the storm, and besides the first mate Malik and his trusty rigger, Payne, everyone else is huddled up in their respective cabins, trying to sleep or suffer their night through the heavy tempest.

Thing is, Harry already knows that he’s to be cautious on every step he takes, because there is always a chance of Louis playing his little tricks on him. There are, however, times when Louis is a step ahead of him, which is a massive achievement that Harry actually salutes him for, and what Harry really didn’t see happening, is to find Louis in his cabin,  _again_ , although that’s not too big of a surprise these days, face lathered up with foamy soap and Louis running a slick, sharp knife over his face.

Which, okay. There is something about a man handling sharp objects in general, but there is something erotic about shaving that Harry can’t resist. It’s maybe the way Louis is all tensed up, only the tips of his fingers moving over and across his own face, the knife skilful in his nimble hands. And the knowing he could slash his own throat accidentally at any given moment with the wrong slip of his fingers.

“Do you not have water in your own cabin?” Harry grits out. The whole situation is getting out of hand, really, and Harry is sure if he were to take a peek at his own balls at this very moment, they will already be  _glowing_  with how purple they’ve got. The wanking he does almost on a daily basis is rarely of any help, even though he always comes with the image of half-naked Louis behind his eyelids. It’s just that he really needs Louis to touch him soon. Or vice versa, doesn’t particularly matter.

“I do,” Louis says breezily, “but your cabin is warmer. Later on I’m going to lay down and have a snuggle with your bird. Maybe have some wine.”

“The wine you’ve been sabotaging everyone into drinking?”

Louis smirks and rinses off last of the soap on his face. He casually reaches for the face oil Harry keeps on the table and slathers it on his face and he looks so at home, so comfortable in Harry’s room that it’s messing with Harry’s head much more than it should. Somehow he fits and Harry’s not sure if that’s a good thing. “So you’ve noticed?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Smart one, aren’t you,” Louis smirks and turns around, slips off his shirt and lets it fall onto the wooden floor. He looks so smooth, skin the colour of soft toffee and deliciously golden, freckles still dotted across his cheekbones, blue eyes glinting in the candlelight of the room.

Frankly, Harry’s finally had more than enough of self-restraint. Sometimes a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do, even if it means taking little sea rascals, bedding them and teaching them a lesson or two.

Harry takes a long step forward and pins Louis right between the table and his own hips. He slides his hands underneath Louis’ bum, pays no attention to the quiet high whine Louis already breathes out, and hoists him up to sit on the table. It’s actually a bit humorous, the way how easily Louis lets himself go loose, wraps his legs around Harry’s hip and pulls him close, closer. It’s enough for their crotches to slide against each other, enough for Louis to realize Harry’s hard, and he’s hard for _Louis,_ enough for a little bit of delicious friction and a hint of what’s about to go down.

“Oh,” Louis stutters out a moan as Harry drags his body flush against his, relishing in the feeling of Harry kneading his strong into the flesh of his arse. The scratchy linen Harry’s wearing is scraping at Louis’ skin, dragging against his nipples, over his back and it’s already a struggle for Louis to catch his breath. He’s been waiting _so long_ for this, so long for Harry to finally call their little games quits and bring Louis to his bed and give him the treatment he deserves.

“Sort of tired of your little games, Tommo,” Harry nuzzles his nose beneath Louis’ ear and breathes him in. He smells like Harry’s perfume oil, that little thief, and tobacco. “Think some good dicking is what you deserve, don’t you agree? A few slaps on this lovely bum for the way you’ve been acting up? Hm?”

“Mm,” Louis breathes out and lolls his head to the side, giving Harry better access to scrape his teeth over his neck. He’s been dreaming of those lips and that tongue, and turns out his dreams really did have nothing on the reality, because even though Harry might be one of the lousiest pirates in the world, he might be one of the best kissers. “You could put me to bed and hold me down a little. Tease me with that lovely huge cock of yours. Let me lick it a little.”

“Is that what you want? Do you want to suck on it now or do you want to get fucked first? Bet you’d look so good on your hands and knees, that arse all up in my face, knees spread just for me.”

Louis’ cock twitches and Harry feels it perfectly well against his thigh. Apparently, Louis has a massive thing for dirty talk and Harry can  _definitely_ work with that. He’s a pirate, after all, and he knows how to put his mouth into good use – in more ways than one, even.

After sucking a row of little red bruises onto Louis’ skin, Harry finally gives in and presses their lips together. It’s overwhelming and  _so good_  and he's been waiting to kiss Louis for  _so long_  that Harry can’t help but whine out an embarrassing moan as Louis opens his mouth and lets Harry slide his tongue in. His mouth is warm and wet, sweet and a little bit sugary, and Harry licks deep into his mouth. Desperate not to break the kiss, he heaves Louis up from the table, turns around and without much deliberation, and throws Louis onto his bed.

Louis looks up with glassy eyes and bruised, red lips. He looks like everything Harry’s ever wanted rolled into one and before he can even try to sit up, make grabby hands at Harry and pull him into another needy kiss, Harry gives a harsh press against Louis’ chest and enjoys the way his eyes widen when he falls back against the soft pillows. That's the moment when Louis realizes he's going to be pushed around a little, which is what he's been absolutely  _dreaming_  about, and. It's so delightful. 

Definitely more than acceptable.

Harry swiftly unties Louis’ breeches and tugs them down his lovely thighs. His cock springs up, pink, rock hard and a mouth-wateringly thick vein running down the underside of it. It’s inevitable that Harry’s going to give it a good lick, because even though he’s a pirate, he’s also a gentleman. A series of good licks and some tongue-swirling over the head. Louis tries to sit up once more and gets instantly punished with Harry pulling off his cock with a loud pop, a trail of spit still dribbling from his mouth and onto his cock. He lets out a pained whine. Harry should be forever attached to his penis, mouth-first.

“’m gonna tie you up, baby, if you can’t follow orders. Get my mouth off of this lovely cock of yours and fuck your mouth myself, instead. That what you want?”

“Please, Harry,” Louis whines, so desperate and so lovely.

“Please, what?” Harry smirks and wraps a loose fist around Louis’ dick, stroking slowly with no actual effort.

“Suck me. Do that thing with your tongue.”

“Much rather do this,” Harry drags Louis up by his hips again and flips him over, pressing him onto bed face down. When Harry guides Louis to hold his arms over his head, crossed over and holding onto the upper edge of the bed, Louis lets out a delicious whine and gives a tentative pump of his hips against the mattress. Any other day, Harry would love to see Louis fucking his pillows, and coaxing himself into orgasming, but today is not the day. 

“A little slutty, aren’t you? Get you on your knees and a moment later you’re already gagging for it. Arse up for me, babe.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Louis swears and pushes his bum up at Harry’s direction. Harry uses the chance to slip a thigh between Louis’ legs and nudges his knees wider apart, taking in the sight of Louis all bare and spread open for him. He’s got barely any words or coherent thoughts left in his brain and if Harry thinks back on it, mulls over everything hard, he realizes that all of the provocation they threw at each other was very much worth it for this very moment.

“Want some fingers, love? Want me to get you all nice and wet for my cock?”

Since Harry does have the exquisite opportunity of having Louis all bared and right in front of him, arse up, he gives his bum a little slap. All of his tricks and pranks had it coming for him, really. It’s hard enough to sting a little, soft enough not to hurt and the way Louis keens and tries to nudge himself onto Harry’s lap, provokes another few out of Harry.

“Please,” Louis whines and it’s the nicest sound Harry has ever heard. Louis begging and pleading. 

Harry grabs a dinky bottle of oil from the open chest right next to his bed. He slathers up his fingers and slides one in earnestly, pumping it slowly in the rhythm of his breathing. The second one is a stretch, a pleasurable burn, and the third finger Harry feeds into Louis’ arse has Louis writhing and moaning and pushing his arse at Harry forcefully.

“Fuck me, Harry. Get your cock in me now, please,” Louis whispers into the pillow, fucking into the mattress with the same rhythm Harry has going on with his fingers.

“Had I known you’re do desperate for some good fingering, I’d have slipped some into you much earlier,” Harry tries his hardest to keep the smirk out of his face and voice, but with his fingers in the tight, wet heat of Louis' bum, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else.

“You oughta ride me,” Harry says and helps Louis turn around again. Louis is so wet and loose, so pliant and red-faced and heaving that Harry’s past the point of throwing him around. He’s a better person than that, because not all pirate captains are heartless scoundrels, and he aims to be nothing less than a spectacular lover.

Harry lays down, props himself up on his pillows and guides Louis to sit down onto his cock, secretly much too smug over how Louis  _does_  seem to have at least half of his petulance fucked out of him with just the aid of a few thick fingers and a few slaps already. His eyes are glassy, cock dark red and a bit wet at the tip, and the look on Louis’ already blissed-out face is so worth it when Harry thumbs over the head and smears it over his own lip.

It takes Louis a while to settle into a good rhythm, because he’s already dick-dumb and Harry’s already much too smug about it. It’s pretty much the biggest win in his relatively disappointing pirate career.

Harry grips Louis’ hips in his hands, squeezes his fingers into the fleshy sides, and helps him get a good rhythm going, bounces him up and down on his cock. Louis’ pretty whines and high groans are turning into loud, ruthless moans and if some part in Harry’s brain acknowledges that the whole ship is about to hear how Louis is getting fucked seven ways to Sunday, even over the thundering storm, there is a part of him that can’t really be arsed to care. He has his dick buried in the amazing heat of Louis’ amazing arse and if he has to give up his ship, his career and his title the very next day, he still won’t regret anything because this is what he wants from his life.

A good arse to pound into. Louis’ arse, specifically. Strictly speaking.

The stutter of Louis’ hips and the faltering rhythm and heavy breathing give Harry a good signal that Louis’ is about to come and struggling to hold back. “Get a hand on yourself, love,” Harry orders softly and Louis grips his dick quicker than Harry’s ever seen Louis do anything. He strokes hard and fast right in time with how Harry has lifted his hips and is now pounding into Louis with all of his might, and when he finally comes, it’s with the loudest groan and a hot spurt of come that hits Harry in the chin.

It doesn’t take much longer for Harry, because Louis’ post-orgasmic blissful face is enough to get any man coming in a matter of seconds, and he buries himself as deep as he gets, grabs onto a handful of Louis’ arse as much as he can, and squeezes hard before he fills Louis up. Louis is warm, hot, and absolutely perfect inside and Harry never wants to pull out. That thought goes to hell, though, the moment Louis finally starts squirming and Harry can feel his own come dribbling out of Louis.

“Oh, God,” Louis breathes out against Harry’s chest when he’s finally regained his breathing. It takes a while and Harry’s proud. If he’s also a little smug, he’s allowed to be. “That was so good. You’d be a much better brothel keeper than a pirate, Harold.”

Harry snickers and hooks his chin over Louis’ shoulder. They’re both warm and sweaty and Louis’ skin is glistening gold in the candlelight, smelling of sweat, sex and musk. He can feel Louis breathing into his chest, warm puffs of air tickling at his skin, and if Louis thinks Harry can’t feel the smile and the little giggles he lets out very, very secretly, because his masterplan of getting fucked by Captain Harry Styles, the one and only, did just come to life, then he’s sorely mistaken.

And if he thinks that he’s good, well-fucked and ready to fall asleep in Harry’s bed,  _even_  without Harry’s cabin invitation, it takes Louis only one comment to have his dick perk up in interest again.

“Turn around and get your arse up, darling, we’re nowhere near done yet.”

And since Harry is a pirate captain who always keeps true to his word, they really aren’t nowhere done yet. It takes them the whole night and another day of half-sleeping, half-fucking to be done, and when the whole crew claps and cheers for them after they emerge from their cabin onto the deck a day later, it’s Harry who goes to carry up a barrel of wine, because putting up with that and taking care of the ship themselves – they do deserve a drink. Or two. Or seven.

 


End file.
